Is That Unlucky?
by in.the.palm.of.your.hand
Summary: HHr contest entry DA Required: drunken singing, an explosive children's toy NOT created by Fred or George, someone reffering to Molly Weasley as Mollywobbles, a goat, and someone caught in a compimising position with a Kwikspell Course.


**A/N: **This is a contest entry for a Fanfiction contest on DeviantArt. You had to include five requirements. Silly me, I couldn't help inserting Harry/Hermione shipping too, that's probably the main reason for not having won the contest xD But I don't mind. I enjoyed writing it. Do review.

**Is That Unlucky?**  
_by Tamar-Shakira_

"_The veeeeheeeery briiiihiiiitest candle of all, haaahaaas beeeeeheeeeheeeheeen extinguished!_"

Harry covered his ears mournfully, trying to keep out the sound of Ron's drunken, high-pitched voice. He had been at it for several hours now and every time Harry thought he was about to stop and pass out, he was just pausing to figure out the lyrics of a new song to sing. Starting the evening with Shakira's new song _Hips Don't Lie_, performing Wycleff Jean's parts very off-key and nudging several ladies to join in for Shakira's part, he had now arrived to _Feint_, originally performed by Epica; a gothic metal band. Well, one thing could definitely be determined; Ron was not and probably would never be able to reach the incredibly high notes of Simone Simons.

Harry rolled his eyes at Hermione and signed her to make Ron stop, but she, herself, was positioned on the couch in the corner of the local pub, reading the latest version of the Daily Prophet and, having put plugs in her ears, was trying to ignore Ron's concert. So Harry sighed – he honestly didn't understand why she had come in the first place if she would only be reading – stood up and grabbed Ron by the back of his robes. He dragged him towards a chair and plonked him down. After that, he grabbed a firm, nearby pillow, muttered, "It really is for your own good," and smacked him hard on his head. And Ron, already slightly asleep from all the drinking, just suddenly stopped singing, his mouth hanging open, forming an indefinite 'O', and slumped in his chair.

Cheering rose from the other ex-Hogwardians, present in the pub. "Good job, Harry!"

Hermione pulled her plugs out of her ear and said, "I thought he'd never stop. He was so freaking annoying! I could hardly concentrate on my reading."

Harry raised his eyebrows and watched her bemusedly, "You could have stopped him yourself you know, instead of just trying to ignore him. You know that never works." He slapped her playfully on the head and then sat down besides her, after shoving her legs off the sofa. Raising his hand to his face, he massaged his slightly painful scar and sighed.

His scar had been hurting a lot lately, although he didn't know why – he, Ron and Hermione had, after all, vanquished Voldemort over a year ago. And none of his followers had been seen outside of Azkaban since. Hermione frowned and looked at Harry worriedly, "Are you okay?"

Harry nodded, thankful for her concern. "Yeah, I'm alright." He eyed her for a while, while she turned her eyes to her paper again, turned a page and started reading. He took in her features, noticing how her bushy hair had flattened down over the years of adultery, now waving gracefully down her back in brown ringlets. He remembered how her face had shone with happiness, the minute after the three of them had combined their powers and performed the Avada Kedavra curse. She had hugged both of them and had started crying spontaneously. After that he had seen a change in her, as he had in Ron, too. Her eyes had received a deeper color, with tiny, purple dots in them. He wondered if he had changed too.

He averted his eyes to his beer in front of him on the table and wrapped his hands around the pint. As he studied the contents of the glass, he decided that it was better that Hermione had come along this night just to read. Ron had had far too much to drink to drive, and, that put aside, he was also knocked out. And Harry just wanted to drink all his worries away. Not thinking about all the things he still had to do when he woke up tomorrow or the things concerning the pain in his scar. Even if, as he glanced at Hermione, he knew what caused them. He knew it all to well.

He raised his beer to his lips and emptied the glass in one gulp.

"What, in the name of some higher power, is this, ever?" Ron sounded exasperated, having just woken up with an extremely major headache.

"That, my dear friend, is what we call a hangover." Hermione had entered Ron and Harry's room in Grimmauld Place. They had lived there ever since they had graduated from Hogwarts, allowing the Order to use it as a place to have conferences and such. Harry had inherited the place after Serius's death, along with its many horrible aspects - mentioning no names, Harry had made very clear to Hermione that he wanted to get rid of a certain House Elf no matter what. But over the years everyone had helped them clean up and make everything more cozy.

Harry said up slowly in his bed and watched as Hermione gave Ron some certain potion, probably to lighten his head. Shamefully, though fully aware of his decisions of last night, he had to admit that his head was slightly heavy too, though he hadn't even come close to the amount of alcohol Ron had consumed.

Hermione, seeing that Harry had woken too, smiled slightly and left Ron with his drink for a moment. She sat on the side of his bed, pushing him back on the sheets and feeling his head. she shook her head.

"What?" Harry asked, totally flabbergasted to what she was doing. He hadn't complained about a cold, had he?

"I told you so." Harry rolled his eyes, remembering their conversation of yesterday afternoon. "I told you those Hogwarts-reunions would lead to this." She had indeed told them that, no matter how nice she thought it was seeing everyone again, they preferably shouldn't go, because then she had to take care of them again, once they had drunk themselves into oblivion. Especially when today her parents would arrive to drop off her little niece, Leila, who was known for her extremely annoying way of making people play with her. Still, the three of them loved her very much.

A moan rose from Ron's bed combined with the doorbell, ringing downstairs to acknowledge the presence of the awaited guests.

"I'm going to let them in. I expect you two to be downstairs and ready in fifteen minutes, okay?" She rose from the bed and walked swiftly out of the room.

Ron, looking at Harry in an annoyed way, said, "A killer, she is. A true killer. And mental, too."

Nonetheless, both Harry and Ron greeted Leila, and Hermione's parents, in the kitchen exactly fifteen minutes later. And while Leila wrapped herself around Ron's leg, asking him please, please, please, pretty please, to come and play with her, Harry pulled Hermione gently to the hallway and closed the kitchen door behind them.

Ron eyed the leaving pair suspiciously and then grunted. He looked down into a pair of violet eyes, which he remembered all too well. A month ago, he had been playing with their owner for five hours straight until she had finally fallen asleep. She probably expected the same thing from him now. He was lucky she didn't talk too much. He peeled her off his leg and said, "I'll play with you later, okay? First I have to take care of your taxi driver and his wife." He pointed towards Mr. and Mrs, Granger and smiled at them.

"Can I offer you something? Coffee? Tea?"

Dave Granger smiled generously. "Coffee please. I could do with some caffeine after such a long drive."

"I'll take a coffee too, Ron, thanks." Helen Granger didn't look half as tired a her husband, but Ron knew that she was probably keeping up appearance. He knew Hermione's parents all too well, after spending three months at her place some years ago, together with Harry. And he got along with them well, too. So it wouldn't be difficult to start a conversation now. Still, he found it rather rude that Harry had peeled Hermione away so suddenly, he couldn't help wondering what they were up to.

"How's everything going then?" he asked, handing them their mugs of tea and handing Leila some orange juice.

Helen smiled. "All right. Dave has been working a lot lately and I think this short holiday will do him good. Thanks so much for having us here." Dave nodded.

Ron laughed. "You know we love it when you're here, Mrs. Granger. It's no burden at all."

And, as every time, these were the words he needed to say, before both of the elders' barriers snapped and started talking about recent events.

"We need to talk." Harry steered Hermione across the hallway, into the cupboard under the stairs, pulling the little string connected to the light-bulb and bathing them in a gentle glow.

"Harry, couldn't you have done this in the kitchen? What must my parents think?"

"I don't care. They've seen you, they've seen you're alive, you can hardly spend every waking minute in their presence, right?" He brushed some dust of her shoulder.

Hermione couldn't quite comprehend why he had put them in this uncomfortable situation and she sighed. "Couldn't you at least let us talk somewhere more spacious? Instead of in a _broom closet?_ And by the way, that argument is totally empty!"

"Will you just listen for a moment?" Harry realized the stupidness of the situation. What had he ever been thinking?

"Sorry, yeah, go ahead."

"It's just ... the reason why my scar has been hurting lately. I think I've figured it out." He watched her for her reaction.

"You have?" Hermione jumped a little. "What is it then? How have you figured it out then? I've been searching all kinds of books, but I-" Harry had put his hand over her mouth as soon as he'd noticed Hermione's switch to ramble-mode, as he and Ron called it.

He smiled. "Yes, I have. And I'm not sure how I found out or when. And I'm not even sure if my answer is the correct answer, but I can at least try, right?"

Hermione's face fell, but she nodded.

"Just don't ... don't yell, okay? Or run." Hermione frowned and nodded again.

But when Harry closed the distance between their faces, Hermione breath caught and her first reaction was to take a few steps backwards. The proximity in this broom closet together with Harry, who's breath she could now clearly feel on her cheek, gave her rather a suffocating feeling. It wasn't that she had never considered a relationship with Harry. No, far from that. She had been thinking about it. Quite recently, too. Hermione had, admittedly, developed a huge crush on Harry, but she had never wanted to admit the fact to herself. Or to anyone else for that matter. Mainly because she was afraid of loving and being loved and also partly because she was afraid that perhaps Ron still liked her, even though she didn't really think that was true. And now, with Harry so obviously planning to kiss her, also known as doing that exact thing she had dreamed off for such a long time.

"H-harry," she managed to whisper. But just before his mouth was to cover hers, a loud bang could be heard from the living room and Harry had guiltily jumped away from Hermione, yanked open the door and had sprinted from the cupboard, leaving Hermione quite breathless.

Straightening her jumper over her stomach, she breathed in deeply and followed Harry to the living room.

"George!" Hermione exclaimed, noticing the redhead sprawled across the couch.

"Hey there, Hermione!" She turned around and saw the other half of the famous twin-duo behind her.

"Fred." She nodded in acknowledgment.

Ron, Leila and her parents had already arrived before her. Helen and Dave stood flabbergasted in front of the heart, clearly still not used to people apparating and disapparating before their eyes. Ron, on the other hand, again busy peeling Leila of his leg, looked annoyed and turned angrily towards his brothers.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, voice raised. Leila's lip wobbled at the amount of anger, flooding from Ron, so Harry quickly went to her and picked her up. He went and stood by Helen and Dave, looking at anything but Hermione. And frankly, Hermione did the same.

Fred's laugh boomed through the room, scaring Leila even more and making sure she buried her head even deeper in Harry's jumper. "Come now, little brother. It's not like we came here for fun. We just didn't know where else to go."

"It's true," George continued, "Dad sent us away. Probably to make sure he and _Mollywobbles_ could enjoy an afternoon together." He emphasized Arthur Weasley's nickname for his wife and as soon as the words had left his mouth, both Fred an George burst into a fit of laughter. This angered Ron even more.

"I can't believe you two. This is just," Ron grunted, "Arg!" Then he just stomped out of the room. The twins only managed to laugh even harder.

Dave's mouth had turned upwards slightly at the corners. "I think it's perfectly understandable that your parents want some time for themselves."

"Dad!" Hermione yelped. At this Helen, too, smiled. "Mom!"

But, before Hermione could say something else, a loud bang could be heard for the second time that day. And, also for the second time that day, the whole party hurried themselves to the source of the noise. Only to find Ron in the kitchen with a blackened face and, in his hand, a small, headless teddy-bear, its edges blackened and still smoking from what had apparently been a small explosion. The teddy-bear managed to emit some croaks and Hermione recognized it as the gift she had bought for Leila last Christmas.

Ron turned his head towards Fred and opened his mouth to, probably, accuse him from bringing another one of their explosive goods in this house.

But Fred held his hands up in defense, "Don't look at me, bro, I'm innocent. You might think that we made that, but we didn't. It's probably just the talking mechanism in that thing that caused short-circuit."

But the bear, apparently, caused another small explosion and made sure it hit Ron on the head as it flew out of his hand. And for the second time in twenty-four hours, still with a major headache, Ron was knocked out.

Taking this as their cue to leave, Hermione's mother turned to her daughter and said, "Well, darling, I expect we can leave Leila with you? We'd better get going now."

"Should we have left the twins with Ron back home?" Hermione asked Harry, as they walked towards the grocery shop, with Leila walking happily between them, grabbing their hands tightly.

Harry laughed. "I don't think it'll hurt him."

Once they had seen her parents' car turn the corner, Hermione had woken Ron with a cold towel, who, at his turn, decided that he was going to bed, to sleep off his hangover. Fred and George had ushered Harry and Hermione out of the house, convincing them that their refrigerator was horribly empty and they had better bought something tasty. Leila was sent along with them.

Harry and Hermione had first given Leila the opportunity to look at the the sheep and goat in the meadow opposites the house and after that, had set off to indeed buy the things needed.

"I think we should buy her another teddy," Hermione said as they entered the store, indicating the accident with the explosive bear back home. Harry nodded, but didn't say anything. He still wasn't able to look Hermione in the eye after what had happened. Or rather, after what _hadn't_ happened. Or maybe, after what had _almost_ happened.

He started to search some good apples, when he felt Hermione's hand on his arm. "Harry, we need to talk."

Harry gulped at raised his eyes to her. Brown met green and both were at loss at what they saw. They could have been standing there for hours, years, or perhaps just for mere minutes, but the pregnant silence was broken by Leila, who pulled at Harry's baggy jeans. He broke eye contact with Hermione and instead looked down at the little girl.

"Goat?" she asked, innocently, not noticing what she just had interrupted. Hermione picked her up, "What goat?"

Leila pointed towards another section of the store, which was loaded with small cuddles, mainly goats. Hermione smiled back at Harry and walked towards it. "You want one," she asked.

And Leila nodded.

Loaded with plastic bags and a niece, Hermione and Harry entered their home again. They dropped their baggage in the kitchen and Leila hurried off to find Ron, remembering his promise to play with her and wanting to show him her new cuddle toy too. Fred and George were nowhere to be seen, but a lot of explosive sounds could be heard from the basement.

Putting a pot of jam in the refrigerator, Hermione glanced at Harry. What should she do? She did want to talk to him about what had happened and making the first attempt to talk in the grocery store she had felt very sure of herself. But after the rude, though innocent interruption from Leila all her self-confidence had retreated to the bottom of her stomach and she couldn't help feeling guilty about pulling away when Harry had made a move on her this morning. If she hadn't, they probably wouldn't be in this awkward situation now.

"I like you, you know."

She abruptly turned around. Harry stood against the counter, looking at his trainers as if they held all the secrets from the universe.

"I know I never let you think I did and that I made jokes with Ron about your femininity, but I didn't mean it. I did notice you, and ..." he rubbed his forehead again, "Man, I sound horribly out of character."

Hermione blushed, but at the same time snorted at this statement. Trust Harry to make this situation a joke.

"You're not the only one," she said tentatively, making Harry lose interest in his trainers and look at her in confusion.

"I'm going to act very out of character now, too."

And she walked forward, raised her head, and stopped when her lips were a mere millimeters from his. She saw his eyes widen.

"Why don't you finish what you were about to do earlier," she whispered. He had to agree, this was certainly not the Hermione he knew, but, frankly, he didn't care. He quickly moved his head forward and sealed her mouth with his lips, before anything could interrupt them again. The sensation they both felt the moment their lips touched was overwhelming. Hermione raised her hands to his hair and laced her fingers through the dark locks in his neck. His hands, on the contrary, went down and rested on her waist, only to encircle her lower back, pulling her firmly against him. The kiss left them floating up to heaven.

As if they had some kind of bad luck following them this particular day, they plummeted back to earth again. This time interrupted by Leila _and_ Ron, who, chasing one another, came running through the kitchen. Leila in the lead, holding something that looked like a letter and Ron, red-faced, chasing after her, yelling all kinds of rude words he wasn't supposed to emit in front of younger children. But he didn't seem to care.

Harry and Hermione, far too shocked to have the sense to part from each other, stood against the counter, still embracing one another, but glaring at Ron in way that, if looks could kill, would have made Ron immediately stop his chasing and drop dead.

But Harry, getting back his senses, pushed Hermione away from him gently and intercepted Leila, who, giggling, willingly gave Harry the letter and ran out of the room again.

Ron stopped running and panted heavily.

"Thanks, Harry. Can you imagine how annoying she is? Here I am, one moment, writing a letter, there she is, the other moment, stealing the letter from my hands and running away with it as a wild woman."

This made Harry laugh. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Hermione, who had grabbed the letter and had opened it, starting to read the contents.

Ron opened his mouth to object, but seeing that his doom had already dawned on him and there wasn't anything to do to prevent his friends from reading the letter, he dropped his head and sighed.

Hermione, having read the letter and the address of the person it was supposed to go to, raised her eyebrows.

"Ron?"

"Yeah," came a muffled reply from Ron's direction.

"Why are you sending Luna a letter with an invitation for a Kwikspell Course in it?"

Ron's face had reached the color of beet-red. The fact that Harry was trying to hide his laughter behind his hand, wasn't helping either. Hermione smacked Harry on the head.

"Hey!"

"It's nothing really," Ron blushed, "It was meant as a practical joke, really. Nothing to get fussed up about, Hermione, really. Can I please have the letter back?"

Hermione looked angrily at Ron. "It's not something to have a laugh over, Ronald!" He cowered at the use of his full name. "You know Luna gets teased a lot and you're only making it worse. And, please, for your own sake, just tell her you love her and get it over with!"

Ron eyes widened, "H-how do you -?"

But Hermione had slammed the letter down on the kitchen table and she turned to Harry, who quickly took a few steps backwards.

"And you!" Hermione seemed furious, as she jabbed her finger in his chest, only to let him retreat a few more paces. "You will come to my room in ten minutes and we'll _finally_ finish what we were about to finish and I'll make sure no one will interrupt us!"

She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.

Ron watched her slam the door. "Mental, I tell you. Mental."

Harry, grinning from ear to ear despite everything, just shook his head. "No, I don't think that's true. I think she's perfectly sane."

Ron looked at Harry confusedly, but shrugged it off. "Is this what it's like being unlucky? Geez, how much worse can this fucking day get."

Harry just kept grinning, shrugged and started to walk toward the door.

"You know," Ron said, pouting, "I think she's transformed you. You've become just as mental as her. Now I have to put up with two mental people. That's mental, I tell you."

**The End**


End file.
